He rolls his eyes but grins too.
The crowd grows quiet. I have no idea where they get their cues from, but the violins fade. As their notes soften, a piano begins to play.
The music flows so beautifully that it fills the entire garden with joy. I search the area until I find a white piano on a small platform covered in flowers.
“That is my cousin Larissa’s boyfriend, Hollis,” Wade whispers, pointing at the pianist.
I can feel the heat on my skin from his breath. Instinctively, I want to lean into him, but I don’t. I’m not sure what he would do if I did.
“You used boyfriend pretty certainly,” I joke.
“Trust me. If Riss got engaged, we’d all know it.”
I look at him over my shoulder and smile. “Do I sense a little protective big cousin?”
He shrugs and looks away … and I was wrong when I thought he couldn’t get any sexier than when he was standing on my doorstep in a suit.
Ushers walk various people up the aisle and get them seated at the front. And then the music changes again. The violins join back in this time, and the wedding party makes their way to the arch.
“Those dresses are gorgeous,” I say softly, admiring the pale pink fashions of the bridesmaids.
Wade leans in. “Those are Blaire’s brothers’ wives, I’m pretty sure, and Larissa since she’s like our sister. I think some of Holt’s groomsmen are Blaire’s brothers. I’m not sure.”
“You sure know a lot about them for a guy who didn’t want to be involved.”
He gives me a look. “I had dinner with them all last night after their rehearsal. I tried to learn as little as possible so I don’t feel obligated to talk to anyone tonight.”
“You are such an asshole,” I tease.
He shrugs and redirects his attention back to the parade of bodies coming down the white carpet.
Finally, the telltale notes of the “Bridal Chorus” ring through the garden, and the guests all stand. I assist Gramps, holding on to his elbow.
The bride is stunning with her long, dark hair in contrast to the slim-fitting white dress with a train to die for. She joins her groom under the arch, and we all sit again.
Gramps slides me another Life Saver, and I take it. Luckily, he doesn’t pay attention, and I slide it into Wade’s palm. He tries to push it back into my fist, holding it in place with his other hand, but I jerk it away. He gives me a stare that makes me smile … and swoon.
We settle into our seats as the mechanics of the wedding take place. I appreciate the gardens and the perfection of the setting sun … and of the man sitting next to me … until I hear the vows.
As the groom clears his throat and then the words he wrote on a piece of paper begin to be read aloud, tears dot the corner of my eyes.
His love for Blaire is evident. It’s palpable. It’s the kind of love that a woman wishes for if they wish for that kind of thing at all.
It’s the kind of love that touches my heart just from witnessing it.
My gaze trickles over the men standing next to him. Some are near carbon copies of Wade and others are bigger, stronger, bulkier but also extremely handsome. They watch Holt give his vows with the utmost seriousness. It’s clear they, too, love Blaire.
Gramps hands me a handkerchief, a red silk piece of fabric with orange diamonds embedded into the cloth.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He pats my leg with a shaky hand.
I dab my eyes and watch the action in front of me.
Wade leans his head to the side. “You all right?”
I grin but don’t look at him. “Yeah.”
“Why are you crying?”
My chest shakes as I try not to laugh. I turn toward him so as not to disturb anyone else and lean in close to his ear.
“Aren’t weddings supposed to be emotional?” I ask.
“No.”
I smack his leg softly. “Do you get emotional about anything?”
I’m not sure what I said, or if he’s irritated by the contact I initiated without thinking, but his eyes narrow, and he leans back. “No.” He nods toward the ceremony as if he wants to watch it without me disturbing him.
So I keep a distance and pretend not to notice that he’s staring at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
I’m not a fool to think that this seemingly emotionless man will change because of me—that he’ll ever want an emotional connection with me. But I can’t help feeling stirred to want to know why and how he is the way he is. Why does someone who has so much to give avoid connecting with people … intentionally. Like it’s his damn job.
Maybe it’s the emotion of the evening, or maybe it’s Gramps’s words, “I’ve never gotten anything worth a damn without working for it,” but I’m resolved about one thing: come hell or high water, I will get to the bottom of Wade Mason.